


The Parent Trap

by Tomibunny (Tomigiru)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, M/M, More characters to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomigiru/pseuds/Tomibunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes have been divorced for years--living in different countries, working different careers, and trying to forget each other. <br/>That is, until their daughters (and a few best friends with good intentions) end up at the same college, and wind up hatching a plan to get their ("obviously still into each other" -Lena) dads back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Honeymoon Phase

It had seemed like a stupid idea at first—so Gabriel had said no. He could see how heartbroken Jack was about it, sadness shining behind those baby blues like shattered glass. But it would never work—and Gabriel kept reminding him of that the first few years.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, Jack, it’s just…marriage? Now?” He crossed his arms, looking around their bunker. “In the middle of all this? We’re soldiers, Morrison.” Jack had recoiled from his last name like he’d been hit. He had known he was being overly optimistic, expecting Gabriel Reyes, of all men, to agree to a shotgun wedding, but it still hurt being outright rejected like this.

 _Stupid_. He thought. _You didn’t even buy a ring. Get secretly married?? Stupid, stupid stupid_. He let himself fall back onto the bed, putting his head in his hand.

“I’m sorry Gabe. You’re right. It’s dumb. We can just…….stay like this. For now.” He shook his head. He should’ve known. Even with stupid laws and stuff being repealed, even with it being legal…it was bad news for the public image of their company.

It was worse news when Jack got promoted. That was likely when he had completely given up on the idea of marrying Gabriel, even if they were stuck together for the rest of their lives. As he stood on stage and delivered a thank you speech, all he could think was that this cemented the fact that he’d never get Gabe to wear his ring. At least, that’s what he had thought until their leave together—Gabe had gotten them some fancy cruise trip for their vacation, and Jack was enjoying it, sure…and then, on deck watching the sunset, Gabe had gotten down on one knee. His enjoyment of the cruise skyrocketed from an average vacation level to over the moon.

“Gabriel…I thought…”

“I was being an idiot. Jack, of course I want to marry you. Fuck public image.”

“Gabriel—Gabe—yes. Of course yes.” Jack tugged his now fiancé off his knee into a tight hug, the sun still shimmering on the water as the last sliver of it slowly dipped down beyond the horizon.

~~~

Jack Morrison was too much of an optimist to imagine how heavily the troubles would start rolling in after that.

“Why are you still wearing that?” Gabriel pointed to Jack’s ring as he twisted his off his ring finger, placing it on his nightstand in their bunker. Jack froze, a spike of ice lodging itself in his heart.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean…why be so obvious? You could wear gloves, I guess.”

“What are you _talking_ about, Gabe? What happened to ‘fuck public image’?!” He tore his eyes from Gabe’s face to stare at the ring sitting on the dresser. He heard Gabe sigh and snapped his head over to glare at the man.

“Jack, come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what? I’m sorry, what happened to us not caring? To not being afraid of…this. Why are you acting like you’re ashamed of me?!”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed, it’s just—“

“It’s just you don’t want anyone to know. Fine.” Jack took the ring off his hand, being unnecessarily rough, and slammed it down on Gabe’s nightstand next to the other.

“Great. Now you don’t have to worry.” He stalked to the door, ignoring Gabe’s protests. “It’ll be like we’re not even married at all.”

~~~

It wasn’t a matter of if the news would break—it was a matter of when. The fact that it had technically been Jack’s fault only made it worse when they both found out. He had known it was stupid to go on a date—but Gabe’s entire thing about not wearing their wedding rings in public had shaken him badly. A marriage that was no more than signing paperwork by themselves, and now they weren’t even wearing their rings? Thinking back to how romantic their engagement was started to fill him with nothing but disappointment for how quickly things had spiraled into the same sneaking-around-out-back ways they had kept up while unmarried.

So he wanted some comfort. Something to make him feel like Gabe wasn’t really ashamed of him. It was clear by how he caved that Gabe knew that as well. So they went on a date…something simple. Out to the city for a day. Nothing big. He was being stupid to think that something like that would work for them—Commander Morrison, charming blonde, blue-eyed face of their military, and Reyes, the almost-as-famous second in command (although his fame sometimes looked more like infamy). There was nothing ‘simple’ in their lives.

Gabe even told him he was being stupid when he brought the newspaper to him, slamming it against his chest roughly, the paper crinkling.

“Just a date. Yeah, right.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Read the damn paper Jack.” He tugged it off his chest and out of Gabe’s hands, smoothing out the pages to see his own face on the front page—washed out from poor photo quality and poor printing, but there was no doubt it was him. America’s golden boy, smiling his perfectly white smile across the table at none other than Gabriel Reyes. Holding out a spoonful of ice cream, wedding ring glinting on his left hand.

“Wh—‘A Secret Date? A Love Affair? Married Man Morrison Cheating With His Second In Command’…we….cheating? What?!”

“They can’t see my ring in the picture. They probably assumed you’re married to some American Dream Housewife, Jack.”

“Well…We…we can clear this up. I mean, they’ll want me to make a press announcement anyway. I’ll just tell them what’s really happening.” Gabriel’s face said all Jack needed to know about that prospect.

~~~

Jack took a deep breath. Tried not to focus on the absent space where Gabriel would usually be standing during speeches like this. The cameras pointed at his face burned, like he was being faced down with laser beams. He forced himself to continue.

“—which is why accusations of cheating are unfounded, due to the fact that Reyes and I are married. However, because of…complications, our marriage is now undergoing annulment. I thank you for your time and your willingness to listen.” He took more deep breaths. Another reminder to not think about Gabriel’s absence. A reminder to try and keep the divorce papers out of his head, despite just mentioning them.

“However, I would like to comment on the willingness of our news media to latch onto people’s personal lives and attempt to sensationalize them. While the annulment of our marriage is not due to the media’s interference—“ _Lie_. “—it is not hard to imagine that this could happen to other couples, whether celebrity or well-liked politician, due to this kind of reporting.” He nodded his head, and the men in suits at the two corners of the stage motioned to the photographers and newsmen that it was over. He said another, quieter “thank you” before moving away from the podium, and walking through the space where Gabriel should be standing.

He only hoped the divorce was a quick as possible. He didn’t know how long he could take this.

~~~

If anyone asked Jack about the next few years, he wouldn’t be able to answer in much detail. Everything passed in a blur—Gabriel transferred to another company, and word of him only trickled through after months of waiting, if that. His new second-in-command was an older soldier, who he quickly became friends with, but he couldn’t remember much of their deployments or missions if asked.

Two years into Gabriel being gone, he heard news of him after a long period of silence. Something about an honorable discharge.

A year later, he was in an accident. What was left of him wasn’t the pretty All-American Boy that the military wanted as their poster boy anymore.

That turned out to be fine—in another three years, the decisions of his higher-ups made in other countries were under fire…and although he hadn’t been poster boy in years, he found himself under fire as well. The common people didn’t want to hear about how he had no real power as the commander of a single unit. They wanted to aim for the devil they knew—not the higher-ups, whose faces they almost never saw, hidden behind desks and piles of paperwork.

He retired, scarred and tired, his newfound friends from his unit leaving with him, but staying in contact. It was Angela who gave him the idea of his new job. Reinhardt helped him relocate to London, mostly to escape the idea of the press in America.

An ocean and years away, he hoped Gabriel would stop haunting him…but he knew better than to fool himself into believing he’d ever stop thinking about him.


	2. Recovery

Adopting Fareeha hadn’t been in Jack’s plans. Adopting anyone, really, wasn’t something he’d considered. He and Gabriel had never even touched the subject of having kids, and now that he was single….well, why bother? But with a friend like Angela Ziegler, “happy accidents” (that’s what she called them, at least) tended to disrupt Jack’s plans completely. It didn’t help that Angela knew him so well.

When the doorbell had rung, he had answered, expecting maybe a coworker or someone who wanted to look over his design drafts—instead, what he got was Angela standing there, smiling brightly, a girl the age of 10 standing with her. The girl was sour-faced, staring straight down to her own feet, clearly unhappy. She had long black hair and dark brown skin—a combination of her heritage and her time spend enjoying the Egyptian sunlight. Despite his confusion, he stepped away from the door, motioning with his arm to the rest of his flat with an “um…come in.” and an awkward smile.

That led to a long, long conversation with Angela at the kitchen table while Fareeha—the girl—sat in the living room on the couch, looking as upset as before.

“I need you to take care of her.”

“What?”

“Jack, please. You know I’m still a doctor, and Reinhardt refuses to stay in one place no matter what I say about his health…you’re the only one with enough stability. Your job has a flexible schedule, you have a nice house………….a fair amount of money…you’re the best option.”

“Why didn’t you just send her into a foster program?”

“She refused.”

“And this is better?”

“In her opinion, yes.”

“Oh?”

“Please. I knew her parents, Jack. I didn’t expect it to turn out this way when I went to visit her, but—“ Angela shrugged, tossing her blonde bangs to the side out of her face. She had a small, rueful smile, the one Jack knew there was no arguing against. Her secret weapon—her “I’m not happy but I’m working with it, won’t you work with me?” face. He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple, where one of his smaller scars was.

“Okay. Go through this with me again? How did this even happen? You went to Egypt and came back with a kid?”

“I was called in by Fareeha over her mother—doctor, remember? Used to be a medic in the field?”

“No need to be sassy about it, Angela.”

“Hm.” She chuckled softly, before her face turned harsh again. She wasn’t exactly going over a happy story. “I was called in by her over an ‘emergency’…and the emergency was, sadly, Ana’s death. Fareeha called me in because she wanted me to manage who would be her ward. She has no next of kin outside of her parents. Her appointed godmother…passed 6 years ago.”

“Why did she want you to manage something like this?”

“She trusts me, and because of that she trusts my friends. I know how to handle all the paperwork. I just need you to agree.” He glanced out into the living room of his flat, watching the girl stare at the wall. She was very young, and already struck with so much tragedy. Military family, full of military deaths. Jack could relate terribly, although he wished he couldn’t.

“Fine. You’re right. I am the best option for her.”

~~~

Enrolling Fareeha in schools in London had been a struggle at first—she was smart, charming, and stubborn as hell, Jack discovered quickly. She didn’t want to learn more English than she already knew, and she certainly didn’t want to be enrolled in any English schools. To be fair, she was already near fluent in German, and was fluent in Egyptian as well. Eventually, though, Jack’s stubbornness won out over hers. Mostly because he was older, he suspected.

(He dreaded the day when that trick would stop working.)

School for Fareeha at first didn’t go well. Children could be cruel…and, honestly, the UK didn’t really foster diversity as well as they seemed to think they did. Fareeha was tough, but he still caught her at times sniffling hard enough that it was clear she had been holding back tears.

“I told you. Bad idea.” She would grumble almost constantly when getting home, shutting herself into her room before he could even argue. It was almost funny—when he had adopted her, he had expected high-maintenance, or at least to have his life somewhat taken over by having a kid. It was, mentally, but Fareeha was fiercely self-dependent. If she wanted to spend time with him, she would. Otherwise she would spend time in her room reading.

Which made it a surprise (although not an unwelcome one) when Fareeha came home with a friend after only a week after starting middle school.

“Papa. Papa, this is Lena.” She pointed to the stringy girl next to her, presenting her with a seriousness better fitted to a letter from her teacher. Lena was brunette, her skin the soft brown of a girl who spent a lot of the time in countries sunnier than England, with freckles dashed across her face.

“Heya. Fareeha told me you were a super-cool soldier guy, but she didn’t mention you had cool scars!” Lena was almost immediately on the couch, pulling her sneakers off her feet. “I thought maybe you’d just look like everyone else because a lot of the time soldiers look like everyone else but having cool scars makes it even better, Fareeha didn’t tell me about that. I’m gonna be a cool soldier guy one day too, except I’m gonna fly planes and I don’t think that’s what you did.” Jack tried to keep track of the 11 year old’s blabbering, but decided it wasn’t worth it. It was shocking enough Fareeha had gotten on well enough with someone to bring them over…and for that someone to be so different from her made it even more so.

Lena ended up staying for an hour or two before she was pulling on her sneakers once more—still talking—and ran back to her own home. Fareeha was left smiling a bigger smile than Jack had ever seen.

~~~

With the addition of Lena as Fareeha’s best friend, it felt almost as if he had adopted two daughters. Soon the sleepovers migrated from every four or five weeks when they were in 6th grade to every two weeks by 8th. Once they reached high school—luckily they went to the same one—Lena would sleep at their flat every Friday or Saturday, and more often than not she would hang out with Fareeha after school on weekdays as well.

He had moved from “super-cool soldier guy” in Lena’s mind to a second dad—he had gone from “Jack Morrison, American Military Legend” to “Jack, Fareeha’s dad who designs suits”. He didn’t mind the shift. He could tell sometimes when Lena got lost in the moment rambling on that she still admired him very much. Probably more so, now that she knew he could make very good food that she could subsist off for entire weekends at a time.

On some weekends, his flat would be completely packed—Fareeha and Lena in the living room, Angela claiming the kitchen as her own to make stew, and Reinhardt showing up at the front door with the young mechanic he was friends with, holding some new case of alcohol from whatever country he had been in last.

It felt like a home on those days.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget what he had lost—but on other nights, after he ordered Fareeha to sleep (“I understand you’re not a little girl anymore—it’s still 1 in the morning”), he would find himself sitting in his room, on the edge of the bed, contemplating what could’ve been. How much more whole the family would be if Gabriel was sitting with the kids, or in the kitchen arguing with Angela over food choices.

He still missed him so much, and he tried not to remind himself that Gabriel probably didn’t miss him. Tried to be harsh with his feelings in hopes that they would diminish—telling himself it was doomed from the start, that he and Gabe just hadn’t been meant for each other—but it was nearing on 15 years without him and Jack found himself still unable to let go.

So he spent some nights on the edge of his bed, thinking about the wedding bands he had stashed in his nightstand, gathering dust. There was no way for him to know that Gabriel was so much closer than he seemed…only a timezone away, sitting in frustration in his own home, his own bed, trying to beat his own heart into submission.


	3. Central Line to Epping

“Dad, you don’t have to pack me a lunch. Really.” Fareeha had grabbed a granola bar from one of the cabinets, and was stuffing a folder into her tote bag already full of notes and a few books she had bought for her courses. Lena was waiting at the door, about as prepared as someone like Lena ever was—meaning she was carrying a pen and whatever contents her brown leather purse and jacket pockets could be hiding.

“It’s orientation. They’ll make you sit around for hours blabbing on, you’ll get hungry.” Jack said, fishing through the fridge for the proper makings of a sandwich—Fareeha liked pumpernickel bread with spicy mustard and dill pickles, with spicy chicken from the Sainsbury’s that was a ways down the street. He knew all that. He was a pretty mean sandwich maker, if you asked him.

“Daaad. Please. If I get that hungry Lena will just run to a Gregg’s and get us something. Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first day!”

“It’s not your first day, it’s orientation.” He handed her a sandwich anyway, smiling. She rolled her eyes, but grabbed herself a Ziploc bag and deposited the sandwich baggie in her tote bag.

“I hope you’re not going to make me home lunches for every single day I’m at college.”

“Only if you decide my sandwiches are better than the cafeteria’s—which they are.” That earned him an eye roll, but she still gave him a hug before she jogged to the front of the flat, where Lena was complaining about how long they were both taking.

~~~

“Aren’t you going to Mile End, Lena?” Fareeha balled up the trash from her granola bar and stuffed it in her bag, staring at the map. The Central line wasn’t too horribly crowded, and she would only be on it for two stops.

“I wanna see if I can do some extra hours at King’s College with you, y’know? I think I can get some registration done there too. It’s not like they aren’t all connected n’ shit.” Lena shrugged. “Are you _not_ getting off at Holborn?” She raised her eyebrows behind her aviators—she’d gotten into the habit of wearing those often their last year of high school.

“I was going to transfer to Temple.”

“No, that’s rubbish! That’s two transfers, Fareeha!” She punched her softly in the shoulder, laughing. “You’re just trying to avoid the walk, aren’t you?”

“Well, Temple is closer to the actual location, it’d just be easier.”

“Transferring to the Northern line and then the Circle line is not easier—they’re always fucking up the trains on Circle and District anyway. You’ll be late trying to cut down time!”

“Fine.” Fareeha huffed. Her logic made perfect sense to her, but there was no real arguing with Lena. She settled into her seat, deciding getting off at Holborn wouldn’t be that bad…and if they kept up the same route, she and Lena would see each other most days on their way to classes, even if Lena was going to Queen Mary. They rode in silence for a bit, before Lena leaned closer, an obvious sign that she meant to start conversation.

“So. Are you excited?”

“Mm.” Fareeha said, keeping her eyes on the advertisements that flashed by as the train started up again, pulling them away from Tottenham Court Station. Next stop, and a few blocks, and she’d be at King’s College.

“You don’t seem very excited!” Lena said, nudging her with an elbow. “Come on, show a bit of pep!” The automated system announced they were nearing on Holborn, and Lena practically jumped out of her seat. “Come onnnn, Fareeha! College! It’s cool, be happy!”

“I am happy.” She answered, standing up and placing her hand on one of the blue poles for support. Lena was practically vibrating out of her skin, waiting right at the doors to get out. She had shoved her way there, to Fareeha’s embarrassment. Lena practically darted out of the train as soon as the doors opened at Holborn. Fareeha followed with a sigh.

Orientation would be dead boring, she was sure, but at least Lena would find some ridiculous way to spice it up.

~~~

“I can’t believe they let you stay.”

“I mentioned double majoring in something they don’t offer at QMUL.” Lena answered with a smile and a shrug, sitting next to Fareeha in the King’s College auditorium.

“You lied is what you did.” She answered, but she couldn’t help but smile back. Lena jumping through hoops at administration just to spend orientation with her was a nice sentiment.

“I did not, I might actua—wait a tic, _who_ is that?” Lena practically threw herself onto Fareeha’s lap to get a glance at the girl walking into the auditorium. She was frighteningly pale, which was only highlighted more by her very dark hair. She was also very thin—in the kind of way that would make anyone in their right mind (or at least Fareeha) worry for her health.

“My apologies for being late.” She said to the professor who had been passing out student handbooks. Lena recoiled almost immediately, grimacing.

“She’s _French_. Must be.” Lena hissed, as if it were some sort of crime. Fareeha’s eyebrows raised considerably—the accepting, friendly Lena she knew wouldn’t care about someone’s nationality or accent, French or not.

“Why does that matter?” She asked, genuinely curious to what could set Lena off like this.

“Tch. You wouldn’t get it.” Lena replied. That statement lit a fire of frustration in Fareeha’s chest, making her do what she did next.

“There’s a seat right here.” She called out, motioning to the empty place next to her as the new girl glanced around the auditorium for somewhere to sit. She looked up at her, cutting eyes flicking from her to Lena, who was unhappily scrambling back to her own seat. The girl took the offer, settling straight-backed next to Fareeha without a word.

~~~

Later, at lunch, Fareeha invited the girl to join them at the café near the student cafeteria in King’s College. Lena looked like she might’ve passed out from the strain.

“I do not see why not.” The girl had answered. Fareeha counted it as a success.

“Great. I’m Fareeha. This—“ She motioned to Lena, who was pouting—“is my friend Lena. She’s contemplating a double major here. She goes to QMUL.”

“Ah? Really? Interesting.” The girl tried to make eye contact with Lena and smile. “I’m Amelie. It is nice to meet you two—I did not expect to make friends so quickly.”

“Funny, that.” Lena muttered, before Fareeha elbowed her in the ribs.

“Actually,” Fareeha said, glancing to Lena before she looked at Amelie again, “could you find us a table? I remembered I left something behind.” She grabbed Lena tightly by the arm and tugged her away to where the toilets were down the hall before Amelie could even say yes.

“What is wrong with you?!” She asked as soon as the door had shut behind them. She had locked them in the handicapped bathroom, clearly unhappy.

“Dunno what you mean.”

“Lena, why are you being so rude to Amelie? I’ve never seen you act like this!” “

She gives me a weird vibe, Fareeha. I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t either. You know I’ve got great gut instincts. Your dad even thinks so.” Lena crossed her arms, before blowing her hair out of her face to make sure Fareeha could see her furrowed brows. She had at least kept her aviators off while inside. Something didn’t seem right though—even Lena’s excuse seemed dodgy. While her gut instinct was pretty good, it still wasn’t like her to be this stand-offish without actually knowing the person.

“You know her, don’t you? Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on? It’s something like that, isn’t it?”

“Dunno what you mean.” Lena shook her head, smiling with fake-regret. Fareeha sighed, knowing it was a lost cause.

“Fine. Just…be civil? For now?”

“Okay. She poisons your coffee, though, that’s on you.” Lena rolled her eyes and went for the door. Fareeha let her, not really knowing what to do otherwise. There wasn’t much left to be said if Lena wouldn’t let it be said.

~~~

“Amelie—sorry about that, turns out it was in my bag all along.”

“It is fine. I didn’t order coffees yet because I don’t know what your tastes are.” She smiled, and Fareeha couldn’t help but think about how much her face softened with the gesture. When she wasn’t smiling, Amelie looked sharp—almost deadly—and otherworldly.

“Lena usually gets juice or sports drink. I’m fond of a regular mocha.” Fareeha smiled back. Lena nodded, but her tiny crack of a smile looked fake. Suddenly, Amelie’s phone buzzed. She grabbed it off the table, unlocking it and sighing in frustration when she saw the notification.

“Papa…” She sighed again, a long but soft sound. “ _C’est tellement embarrassant_ ………” She picked up her purse from her chair, getting up quickly.

“I am very sorry, I told my father not to—“ She froze, plastering an awkward smile on her face. “Papa… _Comment ca va_?” She took a few steps up to the door, and Fareeha and Lena’s eyes followed closely as the man who was apparently Amelie’s father walked into the café.

“Oh my God.” Lena whispered harshly, her eyes widening as soon as she saw the man. “Fareeha, we need to talk.”


	4. ANRIs/9 to Hammersmith

“Papaaaa… _s’il te plait, non_ …” Amelie practically whined, crossing her arms. “I told you not to pick me up!”

“Mm.” Gabe grunted, looking annoyed. “It wasn’t my idea. Satya demanded I do it.”

“Fine. What does she expect to accomplish with that?”

“Don’t be rude. She’s going to be your mother soon, Amelie.”

“ _Step_ -mother.” She corrected unhappily. Gabe grunted again, pausing to brush his fingers against the engagement ring on his left hand. Marrying Satya would be good for Amelie, he reminded himself, even if she was currently against it. It would be good for all of them…and it would be good for work, too, which didn’t hurt. Most of all, it would be good for him. Amelie didn’t know—and there was little chance of Gabriel sharing something so candidly with her—but marrying Satya was a last-ditch attempt to convince himself that he was done with Jack. That it had been a mistake when he was young. He was going to have a normal life—a normal marriage to a woman who was smart and charming. And he was going to convince himself he loved her. It was for the best.

“She’s good to you, Amelie. I don’t understand why you insist on being like this. Come on, car’s parked out front.” He tried to take Amelie’s hand, but she avoided him deftly, cutting in front of him.

“You don’t like her—she barely likes you—and you’re getting married. Do not expect me to be sold on the idea.” She stalked out to the car, quickly outpacing him. Unable to reply, he settled with following her back to his car and going home.

~~~

“Lena, why are we hiding behind a bush?” Fareeha asked, glancing behind them to see that a few students were staring at them strangely. She could feel her face progressively heating up at the attention, and at their strange situation.

“Okay, uhh….you remember when I was really embarrassing in middle school and obsessed with your dad because he was a famous soldier?”

“How could I forget?”

“Welllll…um. I dunno how okay it is for me to be the one to tell you this stuff…” Lena rubbed at the back of her neck, cheeks turning pink.

“I am an adult, Lena. I can handle information about my own father, I think. Besides, Dr. Ziegler has probably told me more than you would think.”

“Okay, well.” Lena pointed to the man that was currently speaking to Amelie. He was around Jack’s age, if not a few years older, with dark skin and dark, grey-specked hair. “That guy is Gabriel Reyes—your dad’s ex-husband.”

“What.” Fareeha leveled a stare at Lena before standing up. “This isn’t funny. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I don’t like it.”

“No no, nonono!! Fareeha, come on, I’m dead serious!! Come on, let’s go to my place, I’ll show you! You gotta believe me!” Lena hopped up onto her feet, following Fareeha as she attempted to escape. Something in her best friend’s voice gave her pause—she did sound genuine about this. Beside, even with Lena’s outlandish behavior earlier…it wasn’t like her to pull a prank so unfunny.

“…Fine. But we’re taking the bus, and you’re explaining some more details on our way back, too.”

“Deal.”

~~~

“Amelie. Gabriel. You’re home.” Satya greeted them from the kitchen island, where she was chopping vegetables. Gabe grunted a short hello, stomping off to his room. Amelie was about to follow suit, more similar to her father than she’d want to admit, before Satya made a sharp hissing sound at her to catch her attention.

“Tsk. Amelie. You haven’t been taking your medicine. I can tell.”

“No you can’t. You are not a doctor.” Amelie replied quickly. She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the woman.

“I am a scientist. You are looking paler than usual. Your circulation is getting bad again, Amelie. When was the last time you took your medication?”

“Does it matter?”

“If you do not want a repeat of what happened at your ballet class, then yes.” The kitchen knife in Satya’s hand made a sharp thud as she cut through a bell pepper.

“You weren’t even there--You show up a year ago and act like you've been raising me!” Amelie said accusatorily, turning to leave. “You’re not here to control my entire life.” She shouted back.

“Funny. Your father suggests my scheduling would be good for you, considering your condition. You and Gabriel could both use a bit of order in your lives.” Amelie whipped around, her sharp eyes focusing on Satya’s engagement ring and then on her face. From the way the typically controlled woman startled, Amelie could tell her gaze had been even crueler than she thought—but she found comfort in that.

“Papa might have signed up for having you pull his strings like a puppet. I did not.” With that, she left to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Satya sighed, putting the vegetables into a bowl to mix together before she toweled her hands off. She glanced at the calendars she had placed on the fridge—work, college schedules, Amelie’s medication times, as well as some hopeful lists of potential dance studios. She had tried to rope in the girl by giving her promises of what she liked—but she was not going to lie to her face.

She was not going to tell the girl she would be fine, would become a professional dancer despite her heart defect. She was not going to act as if they were a cordial and perfect family—she especially was not going to act as if she was in love with Gabriel when the three of them seemed to all know very clearly that that was not why she was here. All she wanted to do was instill some order in the lives of these two struggling, interesting people—for their benefit and her own.

She called them down for dinner half an hour later, where they ate in orderly silence.

~~~

“Okay. So uhh…you asked me to explain…but where do you want me to start?” Lena asked, tapping her chin. They had decided to sit up on the second floor of the bus, where Lena had nabbed a seat right at the front window. Fareeha wasn’t terrible fond of those seats—they could sometimes make her feel a bit queasy—but Lena was absolutely in love with them, practically keeping her nose glued to the large glass window when they were younger and would ride to school.

“The beginning is typically a good place.” Fareeha replied. Lena snorted.

“You already know the beginning—your dad was a military man in America, working for one of their new strike teams under their new formatting. All that fun stuff. Anyway, he was Strike Commander and such because he was great and rose up the ranks really fast, and was real charming. Kind of a stunner when he was younger actually…”

“Gross, Lena.”

“I can’t help who my middle school crushes were!! Now if he were a girl, he’d probably still be a stunner, kinda like the good doctor—“

“Lena! She’s practically my mother!” Fareeha shoved her, which only made Lena giggle ridiculously.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. My crush on Angela was over after first year…and after she tried to say I shouldn’t eat as many Twinkies.”

“Ooookay, back on track please, Lena. _Please_.”

“Right. Umm. Promotion, everything’s good, Jack Morrison is famous and leading tons of successful missions, hoorah!”

“You’re supposed to be telling me about the alleged ex-husband.”

“Pfft, ‘alleged’….Fareeha, there was an entire press announcement, he had to tell everyone they were married and stuff because the media was spreading rumors something awful, trying to wreck his reputation and stuff. But he also said in the press releases they were getting divorced……I think I might be able to find some of the speeches online, actually…”

“Okay, but you’re saying that this American man my father was married to…several years ago…is Amelie’s father.”

“Yes! I’m certain—Gabriel Reyes, second in command, honorable discharge from the American armed forces, kind of also a big deal. I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“Then what is he doing in London with a French daughter?”

“That’s the question, innit?” Lena’s eyes flashed dangerously as she playfully let her original accent come out on the last word. Sometimes she fooled Fareeha into forgetting she was from North London. The combination of the accent and that look in Lena’s bright brown eyes only meant one thing.

“Lena, _no_. This is not a mystery for you, or some documentary you can watch unfold. This is my dad’s personal life.”

“Who says it can’t be all those things at once though, eh?”

Fareeha just sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as if I'm doing a lot of research for things that will never be actually specified in the fic, so here's some info so you don't have to ask constant questions!  
> 1\. Fareeha and Lena both live around Bond Street, not a far walk from the Oxford Circus tube station (thus taking the Central line from there to Holborn. Btw it's easier to take the Bakerloo back...fuckin tube.)  
> 2\. This means Fareeha and Lena live in a pretty fancy schmancy area, they're both pretty well off.  
> 3\. Amelie has congestive heart failure, specifically diastolic dysfunction being the cause. She is on ANRIs and similar medications to allow her arteries/etc to soften and allow more bloodflow.  
> 4\. Amelie does not take her medication as regularly as it is meant to be taken.


	5. Investigation

“You did know at least some stuff, yeah?” Lena was typing hastily at her laptop, her black lab, Winston, sprawled at her feet.

“I knew my father had an ex-husband—but I did not know anything about military scandal…or even that his ex-husband was in the military with him. I certainly didn’t expect to ever meet this ex-husband.”

“Mmm…I guess Angela was trying to keep you from worrying about your dad, huh?” Lena stuck her tongue out a bit in concentration, scrolling through the links that had shown up—it might be a bit difficult to find the speeches, just because they were old.

“So are you going to tell me what the problem with Amelie is?” Fareeha asked, settling in her chair as she watched Lena pull up a few videos. It was interesting to see the images of her dad back when he was young—blonde, face unmarred by scars from his accident. That is one of the things she’d been told about—she wondered idly why he could share that, but not this.

“What?” Lena asked, distracted.

“Amelie. Tell me what’s up with you and her.”

“Okay—this might sound dumb, I guess……I’m not sure I know her, but she reminds me of this girl from when I was younger—y’know how my parents used to send me off to that arts camp in the South of France when they’d go off for the summer?” Fareeha nodded—she and her father were well-off as well, but they didn’t spend money with extravagance in the way Lena’s parents did.

“And?”

“Okay this girl was evil—enough that people started thinking she was witch ‘n stuff. I didn’t care about all that rubbish of course, I even tried to be her friend! When I tried to talk to her she was horrible to me, telling me all kinds of nasty things, y’know?”

“Do you remember any of it?” Fareeha asked. Lena tapped her chin, looking uphappy. She glanced back up at the screen, obviously debating whether she should change the subject back to a certain Jack Morrison. She shrugged and chose to answer.

“I remember she said something like ‘you’re only here because your parents want you gone too—why should I care’, along those lines? The rest of the stuff she said was pretty similar. I dunno…I was young but it really rubbed me the wrong way.”

“And you’re treating Amelie bad……..because a camper was rude to you in middle school? Lena, that’s ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t! I am almost _positive_ that it’s her! Like, 99.9% sure! Why should I think she’s changed any?! She’s probably going to spring the rudeness on us in a day or two—say something horrific about your dad or something, especially considering who her father is!”

“What’s her father got to do with it?”

“Let’s just say…the circumstances of Gabriel Reyes getting honorably discharged were kinda…fishy. Anyhoo—time to watch your old man give some sad speeches.”

Fareeha wanted to know more—but it was too late. Lena had already pressed play.

~~~

“Where is Fareeha?” Angela asked from the kitchen. “Shouldn’t she be home by now?”

“She texted me that she was going to Lena’s place.” Jack answered, scratching his stubble as he yawned. “Dunno why.”

“Jack!” Angela’s near-shriek made him wince. “Why didn’t you tell me? I just finished the cake for her…” She sighed, picking up the freshly baked cake that had been cooling on the stove with her oven mitts, motioning at him to open the fridge. He did, looking a bit cautious over Angela’s mood.

“I told you, I don’t think Fareeha really wants a cake…she didn’t even want me to make her lunch.”

“No one turns down cake, Jack.” She said knowingly, tugging the oven mitts off and putting them on the counter. “Especially not home-made cake that their godmother came to make for them.” Jack nodded idly, not really listening. 

“Angela…do you think I’m overbearing?”

“Tsk. I’m sure that’s not why she turned down the lunch. You’re being silly.” Angela pinched his cheek, which made his grimace deepen.

“I don’t know. I just…have a bad feeling.”

“Ahhh, this again. Jack, you’ve had ‘bad feelings’ about everything from the weather to your bunk back when you were a soldier.”

“And was I ever wrong?!” He tossed his hands into the air. “This would just be so much easier if…….” He silenced himself, glaring down at the table. Angela’s face dropped from her teasing smile to concern, and she sat down slowly at the table across from him.

“Jack……I know. But just because _he’s_ not here doesn’t mean you’re alone.”

“I know….and…” He sighed. “I know. But something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if it’s that or…something else.”

“Well…here, why don’t you talk to Fareeha when she gets home? She’s your daughter, but she’s an adult now, you know. Why don’t you just speak to her? Try to get it out in the open.”

“I guess. Over cake, right?”

“Well, of course!”

~~~

“I can practically hear your brain working, Lena. Just tell me your weirdo theories.” Fareeha groaned from where she was lying on Lena’s bed, half-heartedly petting Winston.

“Illegitimate child of your dad and Gabriel Reyes.”

“They’re both guys.”

“You don’t know what bits they’re working with!” Lena shot back hotly.

“I’d rather not _ever_ know, actually.” Fareeha said. “Also, I don’t think my dad is the kind to just ditch a child with supposedly-sketchy Gabriel Reyes.”

“Hmm, good point. That rules that out, then, I guess.” Lena sighed heavily. “That was my main running theory.”

“Really? That’s it? I expected more of the great Lena Oxton, detective galore.” Fareeha answered in a deadpan, rolling over onto her back and sighing. Winston whined softly as she stopped petting him—but she had too much to think about to worry about that. She let her eyes unfocus as she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts still a jumble. She didn’t even notice when Lena moved to the bed near her, only catching her attention when she shook her shoulder softly.

“Hey…you okay?”

“I’m okay….I just…have a lot to think over. I think it’s best if I go home.” Lena deflated at that sentence, but Fareeha wasn’t about to take it back. “I’m sorry, but I…I think dad and I need to have a talk.” Lena nodded silently in understanding. Fareeha gathered her things to walk the few blocks home.

~~~

“Congratulations on your first day, Fareeha!” Coming face-to-face with Angela at the door made Fareeha jump a bit in surprise. “Come on, I made cake.” The German doctor said happily, bouncing over to the kitchen like nothing in the world was wrong.

“Ah. I’m sorry…if I had known I would’ve come home sooner.” She said, following at a much less excitable pace. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, smiling warmly. It made a hot coal of shame burn in Fareeha’s gut—seeing her father so happy when she knew she had just dug up his entire past…and his personal life.

“It’s no problem…I’m sure you and Lena had a lot to talk about after your first day!” Angela replied, pulling the cake from the fridge and setting it on the counter so she could slice it. She set to hunting for small dessert plates and some forks before she got to work on that.

“Yeah. Uh. We did.” Fareeha nodded, knowing none of the conversation topics after orientation had actually been about school—and feeling all the worse for it. She didn't even correct Angela over whether orientation counted as a first day. Angela continued on with the pleasant conversation, Fareeha giving little more than nods or short confirmations as the cake was set on the table—a slice for each of them.

Fareeha felt a bit sick…but she wasn’t going to turn down Angela’s cake. It would hurt her feelings. She took small bites, trying to abate the conversation as much she could by eating instead. Eventually the evening wrapped up—Angela took a small Tupperware container of cake away with her and left Fareeha and Jack sitting in the kitchen, one on one. Fareeha took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say—

Then, her phone rang.


	6. Visitors

Amelie straightened out her makeup for what must’ve been the eleventh time that night. First she had been going for alphabetical—that had failed quickly, so she had then attempted for organizing by brand. Now she was neatly aligning her lipstick by color, trying to discern the slightest difference in darkness between one deep red and another. She imagined this is what Satya did with her days, except much, much worse.

The rest of Amelie’s room was hardly as organized—much to Satya’s displeasure—books and clothing spread out and not in any particular order. Her bookshelf was full of books tilted or laid down entirely, her dresses piled on her desk chair waiting to be hanged in the closet instead of actually on their hangers. One of the few things she could find her focusing on with the needle-like precision that Satya had was her makeup.

Amelie had a difficult relationship—to put it lightly—with her appearance. She disliked it greatly when people complimented her weight or her skin—deathly skinny, deathly pale—as if they were anything more than signs that she was severely ill. The thought made her grimace as she went back to organizing her many shades of lipstick—only to be interrupted by her laptop and her phone both pinging with Facebook alerts.

~~~

“Lena you’re my friend and I love you very much but this is a very bad time—“

“Fareeha listen, I have a plan and it’s great, seriously, it’s _genius_.”

“Lena, no! I have to talk to my dad!” Fareeha whispered angrily into her phone, locked in the bathroom to hide from Jack—she didn’t want him hearing anything incriminating before she was ready to tell him herself.

“Fine! I’ll go to her place myself.”

“Wh—Lena!” Fareeha was met with a dial tone and a feeling in her gut that Lena was about to something very, very stupid. Still, she steeled herself to get back to the task at hand before worrying about that. “Hey, dad…sorry about that.” She smiled weakly as she walked back into the kitchen.

“It’s no problem. You said you wanted to talk?” Jack steepled his fingers, and Fareeha couldn’t help but think about how she’d told him it made him look older.

“Yeah. It’s…uh. About your time in the military.”

~~~

“Alright Winston, I’m all good to go tomorrow. Guess I’m going without Fareeha though.” Lena sighed and ruffled Winston’s fur behind his floppy ears. “Have to ask the parentals though, eh?” Winston barked softly in reply. Lena chuckled before she went to race halfway down the stairs, cupping her hands around her mouth before yelling.

“Oi, mum, goin’ to a friend tomorrow!”

“Cheers,” her mother replied from the living room, where she was binge watching some reality show—she had been on a Britain’s Got Talent kick for months, and Lena was just glad that had ended.

“Tops, mum!” Lena bounced back up the stairs to her room, grabbing Winston by his chubby face and squishing his cheeks. “Got the job done, luv.” Winston barked back softly again. Lena sat back happily at her desk chair, spinning it a few times before settling down in front of her laptop. “Dunno how it’s gonna go with the ice queen herself, but oh well.” She muttered, staring at her Facebook feed, the message box showing a short conversation.

 **Lena Oxton 8:45**  
Hey, can me and Fareeha drop by tomorrow?

 **Amelie L-R 9:02**  
Okay

 **Lena Oxton 9:37**  
Scratch that Fareeha can’t come  
Just me   
:')

 **Amelie L-R 9:39**  
Okay

She sighed looking over it again. She couldn’t get a read on what Amelie thought, but she certainly didn’t want to go face the girl alone…but Fareeha was dealing with her own problems, and, at any rate, Fareeha wouldn’t have approved of this plan anyhow.

Satisfied, Lena closed out of Facebook.

~~~

Satya woke up earlier than Gabriel or Amelie ever did, but it was especially true on weekends. She would get breakfast ready for herself—yogurt with granola, a carefully sliced banana, and a croque monsieur. She had picked up how to cook the last one because she’d though Amelie would like French food…but Amelie tended to stay away from Satya’s cooking whenever she had the opportunity.

That’s why it was quite a shock when she turned around to find Amelie, hair undone and messy, sitting across the kitchen island, yawning.

“Amelie! I didn’t know you were awake.”

“I have a friend coming over.” She answered frankly, piercing hazel eyes searching Satya’s face, trying to make aggressive eye contact.

Satya didn’t like eye contact in the first place—it wasn’t necessary to communicate most things, and it made her uncomfortable—however, eye contact with Amelie tended to be even worse. The girl would always glare at her, nearly unblinking, her hazel eyes bright and predatory. It unsettled Satya, and Amelie knew it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, looking pointedly at the food she had prepared, swirling her spoon in the yogurt to evenly spread the granola.

“I’m telling you right now.” Amelie said. The doorbell rung, and the girl cracked a smile that was almost cruel—a strange border on excitement about having someone over, and delight in how much it bothered Satya.

“That’d be her.”

~~~

Fareeha was an early riser, usually. Even after the talk she had last night with her dad, which had been somewhat draining. The worst part had been admitting that she had gone digging around in his past instead of asking outright…but somehow, Jack hadn’t even seemed surprised. He acted like it was something she would’ve ended up digging up at some point, no matter what he did.

What did surprise him was mention of Gabriel.

She could see the faint glimmer in his eyes, the way he sat up straighter. It hit her all at once that her father was still in love with the man she’d seen taking Amelie away from King’s College.

As she brushed her teeth before wandering into the kitchen for a granola bar, she tried not to think about it. Not only had she dug into her dad’s past life without permission, she’d brought up an old wound….one that clearly hadn’t even healed.

Jack wandered into the kitchen as well, scratching his stubble and yawning.

“Morning, Fareeha.”

“Good morning dad.”

“Heckuva talk we had last night…you doin’ okay?” She couldn’t help but feel _she_ should be the one asking that question, but he had beat her to the punch. She sat down at the table, and he sat down across from her.

“I’m fine. Should I make—“ Before she could finish the sentence by saying “tea”, her ringtone split the casual mood of the morning. Confused, she picked up almost immediately.

“I’ve infiltrated the enemy base.” A small whisper crackled over, the sound quality a bit bad.

“Lena? What?”

“Can’t talk long, I’m hiding in the bathroom, love. I’ll text you the rest of the info.”

“The…enem—Are you at Amelie’s house?!”

“Gotta go, bye!” The dial tone split the conversation, ending it. Fareeha felt like pulling out her own hair.

“Amelie…isn’t that the girl you mentioned? With…” Jack trailed off, like he was unable to say Gabriel’s name. Fareeha felt another pang of guilt.

“It is. I’m sorry, I gotta go before Lena does anything stupid. Stupid _er_.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and rushed off before he could fully process the sentence and say no, texting Lena as quickly as she could for the address.

~~~

“Shouldn’t you get that?” Amelie asked, eyes drifting to Lena’s small purse, where her phone was buzzing incessantly.

“Nah, it’s fine.” She patted her bag, smiling awkwardly. “So, er, I know it’s a bit odd me being here without Fareeha, but I wanted to get to know you better!” Lena put her elbows on the kitchen island where they were sitting, putting her chin in her hands. She was trying her best to play up her cuteness—big brown eyes, bedhead, winning smile. Got it.

“Why?”

Or not.

“Uh, I mean…I didn’t really think of a reason, I just thought—“

“I suppose since your friend wants to be my friend?”

“Wh—so do I!” Lena argued hotly, face flushing. Amelie laughed coldly.

“With how you act around me? Please. You do not like me. As such, I feel no inclination to like you either.”

Lena tried to school the snarl off her face—she didn’t want to prove Amelie right. It was amazing how she managed to read her and get under her skin so quickly.

“Listen…can we at least try? Clearly you’ve got your own…stuff, but I just wanna get to know you, it might make us get along better, I dunno! Just try it!” She crossed her arms, huffing.

“Fine. Here’s a few facts—I don’t like you, I like Fareeha because she seems focused, I don’t like my future step-mother whom you’ve already met, I like my father but I dislike his attempts to convince me I should like Satya.”

Lena blinked. Amelie leveled a calm, hazel stare at her. She felt a strange feeling settle in her chest as she struggled to pick through the outpouring of information the French girl had just given.

“You always just…pour out all those emotions at once, love? Seems unhealthy.”

“I don’t need any emotional counsel from you…and for the love of god, _pick up your phone_.”

~~~

Fareeha was standing outside the Oxford Street tube station, getting progressively more irritated. She had texted Lena 15 times at this point, to no avail.

Finally, her phone buzzed.

 **Lena 11:32**  
We’re bonding, text you the address in a tic

Fareeha sighed heavily.


End file.
